A Lost Love
by PloobyWoo
Summary: This piece actually came about in a Writer’s Challenge... to write a story with the theme A Lost Love. Who else fits this better than (a female) Revan and Carth before KotOR 2! As always, it is short and complete. Thank you for reading.


A Lost Love

Fall is over. The winter has come.

A man stands… messages dropping from his fingers like leaves from the fall trees to curl, now dead, and float silently to litter the ground around his feet. As the last message falls, he too curls around himself and falls heavily to his knees. His body, as wooden as the now bare trees in their groves, feels just as lifeless without the kiss of the sun… without her kiss. His fingers grasp handfuls of the hated messages and bring them to his temples as he throws his head back, mouth open in a silent scream. _Lies_, his mind screams. _I worked tirelessly for her… for us… and all the while… behind my back_! He squeezes his eyes shut tightly. _How could she? _

Behind his closed eyes words and phrases from the messages scroll by… _wasted there… you can be so much more… talent… wasted… unappreciated… only you … you are so much more than a helpmate… more than a farmer… you deserve more…_ _we need you… the Order needs you… our only hope._ He flings the messages from his hands, scattering them across the floor. He rakes his hands through his once marbled auburn hair, now sun-streaked and tipped in a near white-blonde from the hours spent outside tending their grove… their dream. _Why hadn't I seen?_

A soft mewling followed by a wet gurgle interrupts his anguish. His deep brown eyes snap open and he lurches to his feet, scattering the hated messages as leaves before the wind. Barely able to force his legs and arms to work in concert, he stumbles down the hall to the door from which the sounds can still be heard. It takes him two tries at the door knob to grasp it and throw the door open.

Tiny hands and feet can be seen above the top of the crib found within. A note has been neatly pinned to the pink checked canopy set over the crib… the stark white and black a startling contrast to the soft colors of the room.

With reluctant, unsteady steps he approaches the crib and pulls the note from the canopy.

Finally a message addressed to him.

_My darling,_

_Although I know that I no longer have the right to use such an address, I do so as the one final act of selfishness that I must allow myself._

_I assume that you have seen the messages that I have kept hidden from you… almost as if you did not know, that I would not have to face it either. So, now you know the where and the why. Know, also, that the Jedi Council… the remnants of the Republic… may posses my talent and my body, but, you, my darling, will always have my heart. Treasure it; keep it, as I have yours for the small time I allowed myself to believe that it was mine to keep._

The note is signed first with an almost childish script… Miranna… and then below this with sweeping, powerful strokes… Revan.

Fingers numb, this note, too, drops to the floor. Carth looks into the crib at the chubby infant who, after a frantic struggle between flailing hands and feet, has finally grabbed her foot and is sucking thoughtfully on her big toe. With owlish, crystal blue eyes, she blinks slowly up at her father, much like her mother used to when trying to understand the inner workings of his mind. A single tear slides down his face.

He hears his front door open and then close, but he does not move. He knows that it is not Miranna. He does not feel the thrill that her presence always brought to him… that unexplained connection that he had always felt with her when she was close. He feels only… numb. But looking down into the crib, at the little life that they had created and is now all he has left of her, he feels the stirrings of spring in his winter dormant heart. His lips curl unconsciously into the beginnings of a soft smile.

Soft footsteps precede the weight of a large hand on his shoulder.

"Dad? Are… are you… alright? Damn. I didn't mean that. I know that you aren't. I…" Dustil flounders for the right words. "The situation… with the Sith… is that desperate, Dad. It… she had little choice."

Carth slowly turns and smiles sadly at his son… now inches taller than his father and dressed, much as he in his youth, in a Republic uniform. _When did he get so big?_ "She sent for you, did she?"

"Yes… she… Dad? Do you know what the craziest thing is? I understand now." At this, Carth's eyes widen. "No… not this. Well, yes this, too. But what I meant was I understand why you left Mother and me… so many times. And I understand how much it must have cost you… how much it has cost her." Dustil searches his Father's face for any sign of comprehension.

Uncomfortable in the silence, Dustil steps around his Father and scoops up his baby sister. "Come, munchkin. Let's let Daddy have a moment to himself and see if we can't find you something to eat."

As he steps to the door it is Dustil's turn to feel the weight of a hand on his shoulder. He turns to look at Carth.

"Let me," Carth says softly taking his tiny daughter… the heart of his lost love… into his arms and holds her close… breathing in her milky sent. _Thank you, my love_, his mind whispers to the faint trace of her he can still feel. _With all my heart._


End file.
